


What The Doctor Ordered

by wakandan_wardog



Series: Time Heals All [1]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Flirting, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, Infinity War AU, Iron Spider Suit, M/M, Minor Character(s), No Real Infinity War Spoilers, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Beta Read, One-Sided Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, POV is A Little Everywhere, Parent Tony Stark, Parental IronMagic, Past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Snark, Team Cap Critical, Team as Family, The Cloak Loves Tony, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 02:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14661456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakandan_wardog/pseuds/wakandan_wardog
Summary: The Rogue Avengers are called back to New York because the heavy hitters are going to be needed against Thanos. Of course, there are some truths that Steve Rogers will need to accept sooner rather than later. Tony Stark has moved on and Stephen Strange will not suffer fools lightly.





	What The Doctor Ordered

With knowledge of Thanos’s children incoming and the threat of war looming on the horizon, Stephen Strange admits reluctantly that the Rogue Avengers would likely be needed. Granted, the Defenders do good work, and Iron Man was well-known before but now he and Spider-Man are becoming somewhat iconic in their continued rescue of various sections of New York. Even with himself and Wong on the roster, and the occasional helping hand from whatever units of SHIELD were still functioning, they were shorthanded. New York herself is a big place for a handful of people to defend, and what is coming will attack them on a global scale.

Stephen must be practical, even if he finds it distasteful in this instance.

Still, the fact remains, they are only so many… They are only so many and the Rogue Avengers would at least add five or so experienced fighters to the roster, assuming Strange can clear the Witch for field action and still stay true to his own conscience. Considering what he’d seen of the team between the new, the Civil War fall out, and his own glimpses into the future, Stephen wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect. Still, the majority of them had experience fighting alien hoards, and that wasn’t exactly easy to come by. Such a thing would be precious, in the coming days.

Since things were most likely to go badly in New York, if largely because of the Sanctum and Strange himself, then New York was the best place to gather them. Wong had agreed, saying he himself would guard Hong Kong but could spare practitioners if Stephen needed the spare hands for the meeting or when the fighting actually began. After some thought, Stephen had declined for the initial meeting. The fewer variables he had to deal with at the start, the better they all would be.

Instead, he recruited local talent to help him select a building to rent so that the meeting itself could at least occur in neutral territory. Iron Man Tony Stark was an expert in the Rogues and their triggers and had been all too happy to suggest an appropriate public hall that they could rent out for the meeting. Tony would be in attendance, as would Spider-Man and Stephen himself. Though he had extended an invitation to the Defenders throughout New York, the Sorcerer did not anticipate any of them would appear. Likely neither would any of the former agents of SHIELD, aside from those already part of the Avengers Roster, past or present. All that was missing were the Rogues, and whomever else Tony might invite.

With a sigh Stephen notes the time and reaches for the Cloak of Levitation, spinning an orange golden ring of light into a portal to the meeting room. When he steps through there’s already a table laden with coffee and snacks, donuts and bagels and assorted fruit. Clearly, Tony’s been at work. Chairs and tables are clustered around the room but Stephen disregards them, planting himself in an empty patch of the floor away from the door and refreshment filled tables.

He can hear several pairs of feet moving down the hallway, and he’s almost certain he was about to meet the Rogue Avengers.

Yes, Stephen currently _abhors_ practicality.

 

*

Steve is fairly certain that the worst thing about the Civil War is the reunion, which has been a long time coming but still fraught with tension and awkward friction without having even begun. Two years, two years spent abroad, predominantly in Wakanda, and Steve should just be glad to be back home. To be back in New York, at the Compound, with the Avengers.

At least he could visit Bucky, in his time away. At least he had Sam, Wanda, and Natasha. They kept in touch with Scott, visited with Vision on occasion, sometimes they heard from Clint.

Today should be a celebration, should be them getting Rhodey and Bruce back. Today should be them cautiously welcoming Tony back into the fold, with some stipulations of course, and Wanda happily reuniting with Vision. Clint had actually turned up for the meeting, though he’d been tight-lipped and aggravated for most of the flight, and Tasha had advised Steve to just let it be for now. He’d share, in his own time, because they were a team… they were family.

But they’re not meeting at the Compound, they’re meeting at a rented building. A neutral place. It had been decided this was best, without the input of Steve or his team. It wasn't Tony who brought them home, wasn't Tony who _called_ them home. It had been the actions of someone Bruce was referring to as a Sorcerer. It had been Bruce who had actually called, on Tony's phone, hissing about a threat bigger than whatever _petty argument_ Steve and Tony might have had.

Bruce who told Steve that he had to get over his issues, get the team, and meet them in New York. Bruce who gave him a random address, assured them that the Sorcerer would explain it all, and then hung up. When they arrive at the building they’re greeted by no one, just follow Bruce’s previously vague directions until they find a conference room that’s not in use. Of course, the room itself is not empty. There are tables with plenty of food and drink, and on the far side of the room waits a man in a deep red cloak.

Steve would ask, but he doubts the answer would surprise him. Not after this long, after he’s seen this much. Still, it’s more of a surprise when the teenage hero calling himself Spider-Man enters on the heels of the formerly-exiled Avengers, with the faint wisp of web discharge and a sudden clatter of armor on the tile. The boy stumbles into the room behind them, all coltish limbs and wide eyes that are suddenly visible as his armor retracts.

Armor with a very familiar “iron” sheen to it.

Steve frowns as the boy bustles by him and his team, noting the sleek lines of the arachnid shaped logo repeated across the teenage boy’s back as well as the chest. Tony’s been busy, building a fully automated suit for a teenager, while his team’s been stuck halfway around the world. Steve grinds his teeth and shoots a glare at Natasha, sighing wearily when the now-blonde woman merely shrugs her shoulders.

Tasha, for her part, leaves Steve to his brooding and herds Clint and Wanda toward the refreshment table. Sam stays at his back and to his right, arms folded across his chest, eyes focused on the interactions of the various unknown elements across the room. Steve misses Scott, if only for his awkward conversational skills and how helpful they’d be in breaking the ice, but Ant-Man is on retainer until he clears things up with the actual inventor of the suit.

Moments later Vision and Rhodey appear, giving the Rogues greeting nods as they step into the room. Steve should turn and pay attention to them, but he’s distracted by the way the teen boy bounces over to the stranger with uninhibited glee. Spider-Man hadn’t given the Avengers even a half-glance, but he was all but falling over himself for a strange man in a strange cape.

“Hi again Doctor Strange!” Peter beams, waving happily as he skids to a stop. “You talked to him right, he’s still going to be here?”

“Peter.” Strange murmurs, trying to sound neutral rather than fond and well aware that he fails at it. “Has he ever failed you before?”

“No sir!” Peter chirps, loyal to the end and honest in the raw way that children can still be. “He hasn’t.”

The Sorcerer is slightly envious of the boy's precocious nature. Before now he'd never considered himself any sort of fond in regards to children or teenagers, but after training and fighting alongside Peter for the last few months, he's willing to make at least one exception. Of course, if he ever gets a chance to meet Tony's tech protege, he's almost certain there'll be a second on the roster. Still, with news of the Captain incoming, Tony had put his foot down firmly on Harley being introduced to the team. Peter had super senses, Harley did not.

“Then he’ll be here, won’t he?” Stephen soothes, ears pricked to the sound of expensive leather soles whispering over tile down the hall. “Speaking of...”

Steve turns when the other pair ceases their conversation and look to the door, his own blue eyes going wide at the sudden arrival.

As if he was waiting for them all to be gathered, Tony Stark chooses that precise moment to come swaggering into the room, dressed to the nines as always, not a hair out of place and a smug smirk on his lips. His sunglasses are a garnet and gold number, gold metal frames tracing into his silver-shot hair, the gradient lenses going from deep red to a soft amber color. It matches the garnet-in-shadow red of his suit, the bright glint of his golden tie. His shirt is a deep navy, so dark it's almost black, and somehow the whole ensemble is stunning instead of gaudy. Typical Tony Stark.

Stephen's fairly certain he freezes, eyes going wide at the sight of the billionaire wearing a mirror of his own colors. _'Tony... what are you doing?'_

“Morning.” Tony murmurs in a blasé tone as he breezes into the room, acting for all the world like he has no idea of the impact he makes merely by walking in the door. “We appear to be it, aside from Bruce. They won’t be attending, but I’ll brief them later if you wish to attend. Aside from that, Carol’s on a mission, it couldn’t be helped.”

Steve wants to step forward, wants to ask who they’ll be briefing and why they get to skip out on the meeting if the fate of the world is at stake. Stephen Strange beats him to it as he merely nods, clearly he had expected as much. “That will be fine.”

Wordlessly Steve grinds his teeth in annoyance, shooting Tony a peeved look that he feels the billionaire has earned by being the last one to arrive. On top of everything, Tony’s clearly treating the Sorcerer as his co-lead for the team, when that should be Steve’s job if anyone’s. _‘Tony, haven’t you learned to behave better than this?’_

Tony, for his part, doesn’t even seem to notice the look. His eyes skate right past the Rogues like they’re invisible, ignoring the food as well as the glares that Wanda and Clint are shooting at him, hopping from Rhodey to Vision with little more than brief nods and half-quirked grins for each of them, before settling at the pair at the back of the room.

Across the room, the Sorcerer Supreme hesitates, his murmured conversation with Peter dying off as he turns away from Spider-Man to formally greet the new arrival. The teenage boy, realizing that Strange has set aside the conversation, for now, turns also, beaming wildly at his mentor and waving one hand as though the billionaire needs help to find him in the small room.

As if Tony would overlook anyone within Stephen Strange’s orbit. Particularly his odd, adopted child.

"Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark!" Peter waves, and beside him even the Sorcerer Supreme’s cloak seems to perk up.

Steve really has no idea what to make of this odd "team".

“Awww come on kid, I told you it’s Tony!” The billionaire’s voice sounds light, carefree and fond.

"Captain, you made it." Rhodey appears at Steve’s side with a nod of greeting.

"Rhodes." He murmurs, pleased to at least receive some semblance of acknowledgment. "Can I get a little bit of an introduction?"

"That's Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme of Earth and Master of the New York Sanctum," Rhodey explains.

Which makes sense, that means he is, in fact, the Sorcerer that Bruce had mentioned previously. Furthermore, according to James Rhodes's explanation, the fabric whipping around the dark haired man is actually a sentient magical artifacts, of sorts. Steve listens as the soldier speaks, nodding as Rhodey informs him that the unnaturally-moving garment is usual for Strange. He calls it the Cloak of Levitation, explaining it's an apparently revered sort of mystic artifact, the color a deep crimson that speaks of age and magic. Weirdly enough the fabric is an active sort of magic, with the ability to fly, but it seems to also be imbued with a strange sort of sentience.

As Steve watches, Peter reaches out to the Cloak with an outstretched palm. The fabric reaches back, slapping at his hand in what Steve assumes is the fabric's version of a high five. It makes the teenager beam widely, but it's hardly professional.

 _‘Well, at least some of them wore uniforms.’_ Steve sighs to himself. Still, the lack of organization, professionalism, and cohesion grates on his nerves. Not to mention, it’s hard to plan leading a team when half of them don’t even bother to show up and introduce themselves. How is Steve supposed to assess them if they’re not even here?

According to Rhodey the team is slowly figuring it out, learning to work with or around it, but one thing that isn’t up for debate is the way that the Cloak plays favorites. It may have chosen the Sorcerer Supreme, but it’s inordinately fond of Tony as well. This is evident in the way that a section of the folds lift, echoing Peter’s wave in an unsure gesture of its own.

Tony, unable to help himself, is charmed by them both. His smile widens as he steps forward, ignoring Rhodes and the gathered Rogues in favor of the people he’s come to think of as “his team”. Both the Cloak and Peter seem to perk up even more, a shivery sort of excitement filling them as Tony strides across the room.

Unlike the others who are dressed in official uniforms like stealth gear or their under armor, Stephen Strange stands out, much like Tony. Beneath the cloak, he wears a wrapped sleeve tunic and trousers, both in a deep blue. The sleeves cover the full length of his arms, and where they end are supple gloves of a tan leather. His boots are knee-high but at least flat-soled for combat, covering his calves and feet and likely offering a semblance of protection.

Overall, he’s clad in a deep scarlet and midnight combination with hints of gold tones. Glancing between the Sorcerer and the Billionaire’s suit, Spider-Man barely contains a smile. The similarity in their color palettes is unavoidable and intentional, Peter is willing to bet. It’s pretty great, having two adopted dads.

As he watches the Cloak flutters without wind, alive in its own right, unlike the faint stirring of the Doctor's hair that Peter knows is his own deliberate sort of magic. (Tony had told him so once, months ago, spoke of it with a mock somber tone that had dissolved into a wide smirk when Peter burst into delighted giggles.) He’s pretty sure that it’s waving at Tony, but since he started it he can’t exactly laugh.

To Stephen, it seems that both Peter and the Cloak seem to lose their patience simultaneously. The former bounces on his toes, barely remaining standing, and the latter flares and billows imperiously, quirking a corner in a blatant _come here_ gesture. The Sorcerer wearing it didn’t order it, but he’s got no complaints at the results.

Stephen watches hungrily as Tony laughs, throwing his head back in joy, the movement accentuating the vulnerable line of his throat, the handsome angle of his jaw. He shakes his head but obeys the summons, lifting one hand in a return wave as he crosses the room and steps into their space. "Hello, Peter."

From his place at the head of the team, Steve watches enviously as the three of them fold into their own little social triangle.

"Hi, Mr. Stark." Peter nearly glows, lit up by the acknowledgment of his hero and mentor, beaming widely when Tony claps him gently on the shoulder. He drifts slightly to the Sorcerer’s right and seems to delight in glancing back and forth from Stephen to Tony and back. “Dr. Strange said you’d be here.”

“He would know, being a Master of the Mystic Arts and all, Spiderling.” Tony teases, his smile gentle and fond. "Doing alright?"

"Yeah, I'm great!" The boy's enthusiasm hasn't faded since Steve arrived, though his attention is focused mostly on Tony's team and those that Steve doesn't know. He hasn't done more than glance at Steve and the rest of the returning Avengers since they all arrived.

Already Steve wants to pull him aside, to give him a lecture about understanding team hierarchy and respecting everyone, as they have more battle experience than he does. Wants to tell him he should watch his back and he’s better off hanging out with real Avengers if he wants to learn something, not Tony’s cobbled together imposters. Mostly Steve wants to send the kid home, though he admits the boy had shown some hint of a prospect when they’d fought in the airport. Still, too much time around Tony won’t do anyone any favors.

But he'll save that for later, add it to his list of things to fix as he continues to watch the people Tony has gathered to him. There's something wrong with all of it, something undisciplined and unorganized, and yeah, probably a lot of it has to do with Tony's money and charm. Which is fine, but Tony needs to support the whole team and to let Steve lead.

Steve’ll figure out how to work the Sorcerer and Spider-Man into things later… But Iron Man works best when Captain America can watch him, the closer the better.

"Good." Tony softens slightly, patting at his shoulder, and then turns to the Sorcerer with a wicked curve of his mouth. His eyes skate down from Stephen's sharp blue eyes, over his carefully groomed goatee, lingering over his thin lips.

When he speaks again his voice has dropped a few octaves, just shy of a bedroom purr. “Doctor.”

Stephen shifts on his feet, the leather of his gloves creaking when his hands curl into fists. He wants to lean into Tony’s space, to claim it, and at his shoulders the Cloak flares like it’s going to reach out, pull the inventor to him. He wants it and doesn’t, all at once, because there’s an audience, _damn it_ , and Captain America doesn’t even seem to be blinking as he watches them…

Because of that, Stephen settles for remaining where he stands, hands clenched at his sides. It’s less a win and more a stall. Tony’s magnetic and he knows it, Stephen knows it, the _bloody Cloak **knows** it_ , for the Ancient One’s sake. But he’ll hold out, it’s only been a few hours since he last saw the billionaire. Since he last had his hands on him.

_‘Only a few hours, get it together, Strange.’_

“Doctor.” Stephen rumbles out his own greeting, his tone pitched low in response to Tony’s teasing purr. They might as well be alone in the room, for the way their voices adjust, the way they reach out to each other without even moving. But hell, Tony started this, and Stephen won’t be the only one compromised.

Stephen can see Tony’s dark eyes widen and then narrow behind the charming distraction of his sunglasses. He watches as the billionaire quirks a little smile, runs his tongue over his lower lip, and peers back at him from under thick, curling lashes.

_Tease._

Alright, so maybe challenging Tony wasn’t his best idea, but losing would be just as satisfying as winning, and Stephen found he was equally prepared for either outcome. Unbidden his eyes skate over Tony again, taking in everything starting with the careful style of his hair. There’s just a hint of rakishness that could mean Tony flew here, or maybe he drove and it was windy out? Stephen can’t be sure. Still, his suit is pristine and expensive, its colors a clear match for the Sorcerer’s own. Between that and the gleaming color of his sunglasses that he has yet to surrender, Tony’s head to toe in Stephen’s colors. _Their_ colors. The red and gold are more Tony’s than it is his, but somehow it’s become something they share.

Damn it, he’s back to wanting his hands –his _mouth_ \- on every inch of the delicious puzzle that is the man before him.

Stephen tightens the curl of his hands, wanting to peel away the sunglasses and stare directly into Tony’s eyes, loving how dynamic and expressive they always were. In the scattered synthetic light of this room, he knows they’ll be a medium shade of brown, darkening to black at the edges, but lit gold near his pupils. But if Stephen gets close enough he bets he’ll find that hint of green, the soft emerald chips that flare bright when they have picnics in the park or train in the courtyard at Kamar-taj.

He thinks that it’s in his home he likes them best, though whether it’s because of how they shine in the Himalayan sunshine or under the gold-hued candlelight of the library, he’s not sure. When they study at Kamar-taj Tony’s eyes go a warm teak color, all laughter and light unmasked. There are no barriers, there, not even those as inconsequential as sunglasses.

He wants to peel the glasses away, to throw them toward a table and tow Tony in by the lapels until there’s no space between them. Let the Cloak wrap around his back to hold him close so Stephen can focus his hands elsewhere, one burrowing in the thick silk of his lover’s dark hair, the other curling under his jacket to press against the small of his back, maybe untuck the tail of his shirt and stroke the soft golden skin that hides there. Tony gets delightfully shivery when Stephen strokes at the base of his spine, caresses the two faint dimples that rest just above the curve of his ass.

Weakening at the mere memory of it all, Stephen sways forward, not yet moving his feet but leaning.

The door opens wide and dismisses that thought, soft footsteps sounding as the Black Panther enters. For his part, King T’Challa is wearing what appears to be normal jeans and a clinging sweater shirt beneath his open coat. Still, the silver tooth necklace resting at his collarbones glint in the light, evidence that he’s hardly unarmed. He spots them in the corner and breezes past the Rogues, a smile on his handsome dark face as he reaches a hand out to Tony when the billionaire pulls his focus away from Strange enough to meet his glance.

“Your Majesty.” Peter squeaks softly before words clearly fail him and he settles for a half-wave.

Tony beams, wide and impish, before turning to face T’Challa with mock solemnity and an outstretched hand. “Doctor.”

T’Challa, arching one dark eyebrow, returns the handshake with a faint incline of his chin and a smile. “Doctor.”

Clearly, whatever nonsense is going on, he’s inclined to allow it. Stephen, sighing internally, abandons hope of a more mature aid in the conversation and reaches out a gloved hand to greet the newly arrived king. “Doctor.”

Peter makes a muffled giggling sound, but it’s lost under T’Challa’s very dignified murmur. “Doctor.”

Bruce Banner shuffles into the room and Peter looks like he could die of rapture, glancing from where T’Challa and Stephen are releasing each other’s hands to where Bruce has spotted them and is now approaching. Bruce, for his part, smiles and inclines his head to Tony.

“Doctor.” Tony teases, because he’s _Tony_ , and claps Bruce on the shoulder.

Bruce, looking bemused, nods at Tony but doesn’t seem to be rising to the bait. Just about the time the Sorcerer thinks it’s okay to relax, the mild-mannered Banner turns his eyes to Strange, offering his hand for a quick shake. “Doctor.”

“Doctor.” Strange returns gravely, accepting the brief hold and stifling the urge to glance Tony’s direction. He can see the faint movement of shoulders and is willing to bet the billionaire is only _barely_ stifling his laughter. Damn him, but joy looks good on Tony Stark.

 _Tastes better when sipped from his mouth…_ but Stephen will take what he can get.

At this point T’Challa is standing to Stephen’s free side, a smirk curling his lips, and he nods to Bruce who has stepped to stand between him and Tony. Peter’s eyes are nearly as large as his head, and he’s holding his breath as he looks on. Apparently unwilling to disappoint the boy, T’Challa smiles gently at Bruce and murmurs a greeting. “Doctor.”

Peter looks like he’s going to explode in sheer delight, but before any of them get the chance to carry on the sport, an impatient Steve Rogers steps forward. “Is everyone here, can we get on with it?”

At Stephen’s side, Spider-Man seems to wilt, scuffing one booted foot on the tile and mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like _Captain Buzzkill_ to the Sorcerer’s ears. It’s barely audible but it makes him want to smile, and he stores the thought of getting some sort of gift for Peter away until he can ponder it in detail.

“I suppose.” Tony murmurs blandly. “If introductions are through.”

“We’re doing introductions now?” Barton mutters bitterly from a far wall where he’s leaning against a table, arms folded over his chest. Wanda stands beside him, glaring Tony and anyone who dares to stand near him, to ally themselves with him.

Sam moves when Steve moves, staying just to one side, shaking his head as he watches the group interact. For his part Rhodey is away from everyone, finding a large chair to gently lower himself into. Vision stands at his back, eyes skipping around the room, refusing to stray too close to Wanda for all that she keeps looking at him insistently. The room is a powder keg for a few different reasons, and there’s no telling which one will set it off first.

Still, Steve Rogers seems to be making a go of it.

Protectively the Cloak flares, reaching around Peter to brush at Tony’s arm. Strange doesn’t look down at the collar but he knows there’s a certain little wrinkle that forms in the velvet fabric when it’s looking at someone in an especially stern way. A pity neither Wanda nor Rogers knows how to interpret it, it might be amusing to see how they react. Rather than letting the former Captain have the floor, Stephen himself dives into things.

If the way Tony’s mouth curls, he can understand some of the Cloak’s fluttering attention. He twists his hand behind his back to pet the fabric, a wordless thanks in return for the supporting gesture.

“Considering most of us have not met you, you would do well to introduce yourself.” Stephen murmurs mildly. “But since you haven’t, and several of us were unable to be in attendance due to other obligations, I suppose it’s of no consequence. Right then, on to business. Now, the reason the Rogues have temporary amnesty, such as it is, can be attributed to the recently attained knowledge of a forthcoming threat. An intergalactic threat in the form of an entity known as Thanos, whom some call the Mad Titan.”

“Sorry, this is supposed to be a meeting and half the team is missing?” Steve interrupts, looking back to Sam for a moment, then his team, before looking back at Tony and his little clique. “Never mind the fact that Tony’s decided to be pretentious and demand everyone call him Doctor, or that none of us know you yet you seem to be in charge of the meeting, to begin with? Is this how you’ve been doing things?”

Sam, for his part, is frowning at the strange little pocket that the other half of the room has formed, a group clustered around Tony. If he were any kind of leader, worthy of any kind of loyalty, it might make sense. But Tony Stark is a loose cannon at the worst of times, and the Rogues can’t begin to understand how he went and got himself a team in spite of it.

Tony looks amused, but both Peter and Stephen twitch and glare at the Captain’s tone.

“Ok, first of all, Captain Outcast.” Peter snaps, taking a half-step forward and pointing at the vacant place on Steve’s chest where a star once rested.

Steve’s barked “Hey!” is immediately overlooked.

“He is a Doctor, and he’s a freakin’ genius. Since he has more degrees than everyone in this room, yes, you should call him _Doctor Stark_.” Peter huffs.

“Strange.” Stephen decides to chime in, just because he can.

At his side, Tony twitches, a ripple of anxiety and surprise working its way through his posture. Instead of standing alone, stubborn and unyielding, he sways into Stephen slightly. Both Stephen and the Cloak reward him for that, the Sorcerer unfurling his palm in the curl of his beloved’s back as the Cloak curls around him at the hip. Tony’s not alone anymore, and the sooner the Rogues get that through their heads, the better.

“What is?” Steven blinks, baffled and unmoored.

“Oh right,” Peter mumbles, looking back at them with a faint blush. “Sorry, habit.”

“It’s okay, kiddo.” Tony murmurs, soft-toned and fond. “It’s mostly just among friends and on invitations. The name on the building and copyrights will all stay the same, Pepper and Legal nearly had a stroke until I promised.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve steps forward, raising his voice like he thinks his volume is the problem.

Stephen shoots him a look, arching a condescending eyebrow. “We can hear you perfectly well, Captain, there’s no need to shout.”

“Then tell me what the hell’s going on? What’s strange?”

“Technically, I am,” Stephen responds coolly.

Tony smiles, looking up at him. From this close, Stephen can see the ring of gold around his pupil regardless of the distracting red tint to his sunglasses. It makes him slide his hand along Tony’s back to his hip, reeling the Billionaire in closer. Settled against him, Tony takes a deep breath and then exhales a gentle sigh, all tension leaving his frame. “Yeah, me too.”

“I don’t understand… Doctor, wasn’t it?” Sam hedges, stepping up beside Steve, eyes darting back and forth between Tony and the Sorcerer.

“Yes, Doctor Strange,” Stephen replies blandly, shooting them a glance that clearly asks – _Are you simpletons?_ \- before looking back down at Tony with a tender smile. “And Dr. Strange, of course. Formerly Dr. Stark, though I imagine he’ll answer to both.”

“Depends on who is asking.” Tony teases in a husky voice, pressing himself tighter to Stephen’s ribs. “But probably.”

Unaccountably infatuated with his husband, the Sorcerer Supreme ignores the rest of the room in favor of leaning into the shorter male, removing Tony’s bright sunglasses with a flick of one wrist. The billionaire hardly even blinks at the show of magic, his eyes gone heavy-lidded and smile curving both wicked and sweet across his plush lips. There’s no tension remaining in Tony’s posture, he’s all loose-limbed and content, pressed to Stephen from chest to hips, one hand slowly sliding around the Sorcerer’s waist between his tunic and cloak.

“Doctor… what?” Even Sam seems lost, glancing between the two of them. His eyes drift down to Tony’s left hand, and he sees a handsome golden band on the ring finger. “You’re… married?”

“Give the bird a prize.” Tony rumbled carelessly.

“The only prize I see here is you.” Stephen murmurs, blue eyes gone soft. “And I’m not giving you away for anything.”

“Why Doctor Strange, how forward of you.” Tony murmurs in a faux fluttery tone, but Stephen can see the blush flare up his cheekbones.

“You want forward?” Stephen growls, mindful of how the Captain and all of his associates are gaping at them. “I can give you forward.”

“Oh darling, I wish you would.” Tony purrs, eyes dark but dancing with humor.

“Your wish is my command, Dr. Strange.” Stephen teases just for the smile it earns him, and because he may never get over gloating that this gorgeous creature is his husband.

Both Stephen and the Cloak move, spinning the billionaire into the curve of his arm and dipping Tony backward without hesitation. Tony, for his part, goes easily, a lifetime of ballroom dancing making him light on his feet and his trust in Stephen making him relax without fear. The Cloak flares, one curl of fabric gently wrapping around Tony’s waist along Stephen’s arm, the other belling out dramatically.

Tony’s delighted laugh is abruptly cut short as the Sorcerer attacks, slim lips skating over the shorter man’s mouth in a teasing brush. When the brunet’s sudden laugh catches on a breath Stephen smiles, slanting his mouth against his husband’s and kissing until Tony’s clutching at him, one hand curved over his shoulder and the other gripping around his ribs. He nips at the plush lower lip when he feels like it, eyes sinking closed as he focuses solely on the body in his hold, on the mouth pressed against his own.

In the background Peter whoops loudly, Rhodey and T’Challa laugh, Bruce is quietly gaping.

Tony notices none of them, eyes drifting closed as he sinks into the gentle warmth of Stephen’s kiss, the hungry brush of his lips and the teasing curl of tongue. Eventually, the Sorcerer spins them upright, keeping them pressed close from chest to hip, one of his hands sinking into Tony’s hair so fingertips can skate lightly against his scalp. It never fails to make Tony shiver, though in the midst of a kiss his exhale is more like a soft whine.

Stephen, for his part, merely rumbles in approval, pausing to bite gently at Tony’s lower lip before bestowing three more sucking kisses at his now-red mouth. Having begun it, it’s the Sorcerer’s job to end the kiss, which he does so with slow, lingering brushes of his mouth until they’ve ceased moving, exhaling softly against each other’s lips. Eventually, Tony’s eyes drift open, a flutter of lashes that give way to his warm brown eyes.

_Beautiful._

Stephen smiles down into twin pools of teak lit brightly with sunlit gold and chips of emerald, and drops another quick kiss on still-parted lips. “Mmm, how was that, BrightEyes?”

Tony, recovering enough to give a wicked little grin, returns the kiss with one of his own and gives a self-satisfied nod. “Just what the Doctor ordered.”

Stephen would swear it on anything, on the Infinity Stones themselves, that he loves this beautiful billionaire beyond all thought and reason. That’s alright though, he’s pretty sure Tony feels the same way about him, so at least it’s a fair trade.

And yeah, maybe it is exactly what the Doctor ordered.

**Author's Note:**

> Working titles for this include: "Doctor", “An Over-Prescription of Doctors”, “Too Many Doctors Make Steve’s Head Ache” and "Steve’s Sick of All these Goddamn Doctors”. Honest and for true this whole thing sprang out of me randomly thinking of that TV Land episode of Supernatural where they go to Seattle Mercy Hospital and say "Doctor" a lot. I was up until 3am writing this ridiculousness, I hope you enjoy. Also, the SPN bit because it makes me laugh:  
> [Watch the whole thing or just skip to 2:35](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_tlAnd5VEw)


End file.
